


All Around the World

by Maverick Dagwood (PsychoSeal)



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoSeal/pseuds/Maverick%20Dagwood
Summary: A fan work for 2020's  SlyFox Week. This definitely isn't my best work, but I had fun doing it and getting back into fanfiction. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	All Around the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is for both the bottle and safehouse prompts. The next will hopefully be both mask and kiss.

It had been months since the gang and I had had a night to ourselves. Recently just about every night has been booked full of capers, and just about every morning made out by us drawing the shades and hibernating until dark. Bentley, tired of all the goofing off we tended to do and my occasional escapades to the local hotspots (the museums, the nightly vendors, and of course just about any police station in the area), decided to kick us back into shape with a heist of sorts. It was day 8, and while we ourselves were certified night owls, coffee began to run low at the flat we had borrowed from a wealthy, vacationing Athenian couple that were in on the ring the three of us were busy infiltrating. 

Sensing that we weren’t in the best of spirits, Bentley had made the executive decision that tonight would be game night. I had no objections, and as always, Murray was excited to take a load off from the late nights and early mornings of cracking skulls to relax together as brothers. It wasn’t often that the three of us just got to have our time together. It isn’t often that I think of why exactly that is. Nevertheless, the plan was made. This weekend, the three of us would find and “procure” what it was that we needed for a night full of fun. Bentley put himself on hardware; while the, ah, Ariti’s as we learned from the tacky welcome mat when we let ourselves in did have quite the media center set up, it lacked anything that fit our more refined tastes. Murray, of course, was on snack duty. I wouldn’t put a job like that in the hands of anyone but the big guy. Murray could make out of the Swiss Bank like a bandit if we convinced him that they operated based on their namesake. Finally, I was tasked with finding us some refreshments. That shouldn’t be a problem. In a place like Greece, a celebratory drink should be more than easy to find. With a business card to a local winery profiting from that ring we were investigating printed off courtesy of Bentley, I was off into the night.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Greece was a place exceedingly lacking in rooftops. It hadn’t exactly occurred to me just how naked I’d feel running along the streets and fences, but with the bevy of rolling hills, farm ground, and trees, I had no issues keeping out of sight. I doubt too many of these farmers would have heard of me just yet, but with this job we were working, I wouldn’t want them to have seen me, either. Dashing among the grape vines in the moonlight, wind wicking through their foliage and rolling off the swell of the hills for miles around, it was easy to get lost in it all. Just as they say about idle hands, the mind when not consumed with work tends to wander. As a few grapes go missing, I start to wonder if there could ever be a time for me to walk a garden like this in the daylight. Thinking of the large red orbs shining right down to their pit, seeing the seeds in my hands; no mask, no cane, just me and a guide taking in the sights. And of course, there was always an arm open for another certain someone to be linked with as well…

Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved Bentley and Murray. Nothing could put a wedge between us. Since the orphanage, they had been closer to me than anyone or anything. My life, my legacy, none of them really mean much in comparison to those two. But I’ve also always had this idea in my head that one day I wouldn’t be with them all the time. If they ever needed me, I’d come running, but it feels like none of us have ever really, well, flown the coop. Are we going to be living off of those fantasies we shared as kids, stealing from cookie jars and dodging the hall monitors after curfew? It feels as if there’s so much left for us to do, and yet, I can feel this urge to almost move on, in a sense. I can’t think that I would ever do that, though. As long as I hold the memory of those two, I don’t think I could put anything but us first. 

Absentmindedly, I had already reached the broad side of the winery. Having neglected to bring a lockpick, a quick swing of dad’s old cane made short work of the padlock. Swinging open the cellar doors revealed that there was a deadbolt on either side. It was strange that it hadn’t locked, so in an effort to show some kindness, I made sure to bolt it myself just to prevent any future ne’er-do-wells from making off with any of the appreciating vintage. A fine leap down the small shaft found me among a small thousands of casks, the nearly acidic smell of fermenting grapes, and, most unfortunately, the flicker of a torchlight. I could just barely find my way into one of those odorous barrels before the light shone right over me, and a small voice echoed on the walls of the chamber. 

“Was this for a special occasion, Miss? It surely must be if it required a visit this late into the night.”

“You could say that. I apologize again for the late visit, my work tends to keep me away from pleasures like this for quite too long.” I perked up at the sound of that voice. Finding a split in the cask, I did my best to peer through the darkness and through to the candlelight. Right there within the flickering orange light, I caught a glimpse of a familiar blue, kinky streak of hair, tapering off as it approached the full head of hair it was attached to, shrouded by the darkness enveloping the room. I almost didn’t recognize her, trading out her usual attire for a leather down coat and what seemed to be sneakers. A surprise from her usual attire, but Carmelita was a woman of many tastes, and looking at her cozy outfit, I began to wish I had dressed a little more warmly for the occasion. It’d be a shame not to meet her on even ground fashion-wise, even if it was usually the case when we met.

“It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. We will always welcome such an esteemed guest to browse our prized selection.” Lita quickly cut her off.

“Just Fox is fine. Ma’am is for work, and Miss doesn’t exactly cover it.”

“I see. Is this visit here to change that, Ms. Fox?” I swear I could hear her blushing through that barrel. “An anniversary, perhaps?”

“You could say that. It is for a special someone, or rather, for me when I finally get him.” Get him? Sounds like she’s talking about me. Granted, it had been a while since we’ve seen each other. The last time wasn’t exactly pleasant. Hopefully all that paperwork wasn’t enough to let her take notice of someone else. I better lean in a little closer, just to be sure I’m getting all of this.

“Ah, chasing after a hard to get type, I see. Men these days sure do love the chase. We have this wonderful selection here, it’s a little recent of a brew but the grapes were particularly ripe this season-”

Looking on past her to the bottles, I could almost make her out fully. Even here, she looked just as beautiful as ever. The same resting expression, pretty, but ready to chew you out at the same time. She had this intensity to her tonight, but in a more relaxed way, like she had just been relieved from a hard night. The thought to let that relief be had just crossed my mind before I came to from staring only to realize I had leaned just a bit too far in the barrel. Before it hit the floor I managed to roll out, but not much sound was gonna escape from a cellar like this, and especially not from the ears of a Fox looking for her trouble. Grabbing the first bottle or two I could find, I rushed to the door and barely managed to pull the bolt. The woman with Carmelita barely seemed to notice my exit, but by the rush of wind and distant sounds of “Cooper!” coming out from the cellar, I could tell she was hot on my tail. Rushing back down the hills and valleys, hiding along the tree lines, I could hear her car brushing past in the distance, headlights guiding her through those moonlit dirt roads. It was high time I made it back to the guys. Something was telling me that our little game night was going to get a lot more interesting. 

* * *

I told the guys about what had happened, with the wine and Inspector Fox. Bentley wasn’t too thrilled about me getting caught, but Murray seemed content to be deep in his second bag of well-earned cheese puffs. I told Bentley to relax and get ready.

“I don’t get it, Sly. The only time you seem to get caught is when the Inspector is involved. If you could do your job when she was around, no one would even know we were around half the time!”

“I’ve said it a million times, pal. What’s the fun in a mission without a little danger?”

“Not spending the rest of our lives in prison is one bit of fun I can think of.”

Murray chimed in after taking a courteous moment to finish his bag and his mouthful. “Sly, if you like the Inspector so much, why don’t you just tell her and be done with it? While The Murray acknowledges her faults, mostly the whole being an officer of the law bit, a fiery soul like hers and a cool, collected guy such as yourself could serve as the steaming romance that creates all good in this world!”

While I don’t think that I’d go that far, what Murray was saying to ring true. As much as we fight, and tease, and make gaga from the end of a shock pistol from rooftop to rooftop every few months, the thought of really coming onto her had never really crossed my mind. Sure, a kiss here, a soft note on the back of a calling card with the number to a burner phone there, that was normal. But the idea of going steady? Trying to make something off of a foundation like ours? To say the least, that was scary.

“Well I for one think that that’s a terrible idea. The two of you aren’t like fire and ice, you’re like… water and oil! You don’t mix and you just leave behind this gross sappy residue that makes everybody else feel gross.”

Goading him, I decided to put Bentley in his place. “What do you say, Brain? You wanna show me how you feel in a round or two?”

"Oh, you are **ON**!”

* * *

The last of the things had been packed. We actually managed to fit most of what we bought into the back of the can with us, surprisingly. The rest of the operation would run right of the van, just how we used to do it. It’d be sad to say goodbye to such fresh digs, even if they weren’t exactly fresh anymore. The surprise we had left for Ms. Fox had been one of our best little pranks yet, and given her insistence on catching this certain someone she had her eyes on, I almost felt sorry for getting her hopes up. Looking out at her in her convertible, cruising up to the flat ahead of her pack of bulldogs, I could just make out the bottle buckled up right next to her in the passenger’s seat, wrapped in a neat bow through my binocucom. Evidently, she had taken the time to go back and get it just for the occasion. All that was waiting for her there, however, was an empty house, trashed like a post-homecoming frat house, with a single empty bottle of wine sitting on the table and a calling card with the words, “smile, you’re on camera!” written on the back. I could see the flashes of all the cameras we had set up pierce through the night in the distance, and I swear I could hear the sweet sound of Carmelita calling my name rolling through the hills from the back seat of the van. The Ariti’s would surely love an explanation as to why the lead officer on my case had found their home interesting enough to empty a bottle and take a load off without so much as a warrant. While I do hope to see the bottle she bought once before I give up on this whole thieving lifestyle, for now, we had a lot bigger things to worry about. Besides, I couldn’t be sure whether she’d share me a bit of that vintage when she finally caught me, or hit me with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I promise never to write in first person again. I sorta wanted to do things from Sly's perspective and capture the feeling of the writing in the games, but I don't think actual longer stories are really a fit for it. Next prompt will be much different. Look forward to it.


End file.
